The Black Dahlia
Violet.jpg|Violet Rhodes/ Syphon|link=Violet_Rhodes Dahlia.png|Dahlia McIver Teenivy.jpg|Ivy Rhodes/Hedera|link=Ivy_Rhodes Ivy was battered, bloodied and bruised, but worst of all she was in pain, emotional, mental and least of all physical. She had killed her mother once more, almost fifteen years to the day; after striking her with more divine energy than she could handle, Violet's power had become unstable clouding her mental capacities. She had had to do it, or so she told herself. She had reached inside her mother and found that small piece of divine energy that had kept her alive, the small gift of her own blood that had been siphoned by her own mother during her conception. In her ecstasy of power Violet had lowered her guard and with that Ivy had taken back the life she and her father had borrowed her mother fifteen years and five months ago. No longer a Maenad, Violet's dead body was just that, dead flesh and all the divine energy she had absorbed from Ivy's strike was far too great and burned through her human bones, flesh and skin leaving nothing but a pile of ash upon the ground. The energy she had reabsorbed should have made her feel powerful, but Ivy had absorbed more than just the divine energy of Dionysus that lived within Violet, she had taken upon herself her mothers essence, the death, darkness that mauled at Violet turning her into the woman she had fallen as; and it ran through Ivy like her whole body ached of sadness and struggle. Collapsing on the ground, she wept and she cried beside the ashes. Although she had absorbed a great deal of it, the blast from Violets body had sent out waves of divine nature energy, causing flowers and vines of grapes to grow from the land. But the tears of Ivy, as they streamed down her face, tumbling to the ground turned the greenery to blight, waves of decay rippling outwards, she was death, she was the Poison of Dionysus. So Ivy, lay on the ground overwhelmed by all these feelings not only in her heart, but her soul and bones. Her wounds were not healing, she lay cut and cold for the first time ever, outside in the heart of nature on the dead desolate ground, next the ashes of the woman she may have called mother. It was not in her to even try and heal herself, if the strength and power of a demi-god came from their belief, right now she believed all she could do was hurt, and that is was she did. After what felt like an age, it could have been 10 minutes or it could have been two hours, Ivy heard footsteps approaching crunching the leaves in the undergrowth as they made their way closer. But right now Ivy didn't care, she found it hard to hold on to anything but the deepness of suffering, so she closed her eyes and waited. Moments later she heard a gasp and the footsteps increasing in their speed and urgency, until soon she felt a hand upon her shoulder, it was warm, in this short while she had forgotten what warmth had felt like. She knew words were being spoken, perhaps even shouted at her as the warms hands tried to shake her to attention, slowly she opened her eyes and greeting her was the emerald green eyes of Dahlia. They both managed a weak half smile, and then she closed her eyes once more. When Ivy had woken once more, the softness of the bed beneath her and the sweet scent of lavender covering the faint essence of cannabis and unwashed clothes in the air told her where she was. She opened her eyes, finding enough energy to raise her head and looked, her eyes finding what she needed, Dahlia was laying across the end of the bed, lightly dosing herself. Ivy had not wanted to wake her, she seemed so peaceful at this moment, the opposite of what Ivy herself felt and she feared she would once again taint whatever tranquility hung in the air. And then against her own wishes, she coughed, she had never coughed before, or even been ill, but that was before she had been swallowed, or rather before she swallowed all this darkness. Dahlia perked up at the sound of Ivy's cough and once again managed a weak smile, from the dirt and mud that peppered her clothing it was obvious she had carried Ivy back here herself. Dahlia reached out her hand to touch Ivy, and like a reflex she flinched, she was not afraid of Dahlia's touch but rather what she might do to yet another person. "Ivy..." She said softly, and reached forward once more until her hand gently rested upon Ivy's, the warmth being transferred between the two girls. "What happened?" She asked, her word were not accusatory nor were they pressuring but rather they held a certain amount of compassion, maybe accusatory was what she needed, because even feeling the compassion on Dahlia's voice was too much for her, and the tears came once more. Dahlia took this chance to sweep Ivy into an embrace, Ivy could feel her warmth rolling through her whole body, it was more than just heat, but it was the warmth of someone who cared. As Ivy wept harder and harder, Dahlia only gripped her tighter and tighter, saying nothing. Dahlia's face was warm against the deathly cold of Ivy's cheek, she could feel the ebbs and flows of the blood beneath the skin. Ivy's tears still rolling down her cheeks, tumbled from hers to Dahlia's face. As they sat there, Ivy weeping, the warmth was slowly fading from Dahlia. Eventually sensing something was wrong, Ivy lifted her head. She was now the one supporting Dahlia, all the colour drained from her already pallid features, her eyes half closed, gently fluttering. Thoughts fired in Ivy's head too fast for her to process, what had happened. She had poisoned Dahlia, or had she? There were too many questions, placing Dahlia down was her first objective. She lay Dahlia down, she was as cold as Ivy had been only moments ago, but she had newfound strength, she may be poison but she had to be strong now. What had happened, a fraction of a glisten alerted Ivy to the tear upon Dahlia's cheek, the angle of the streak impossible to be hers.